And I thought I was lucky YESTERDAY

Note to self. When you think you have hit some kind of luck jackpot, do not blog it without the expectation that you will pay for it thrice when Luck's version of the taxman finds out what you scored.

Today I had a meeting with the workplace health and safety nurse to review my immunization records and see if anything was missing. Working in a hospital, they want to be sure employees are not at risk for contracting anything from exposure to patients.

"Did you have chicken pox as a child?" Her voice was soft and she was round with child. She had a spacious, bright office with a sink across from her L-shaped desk.

"Yes," I said, sitting in the chair beside the desk.

She asked me what I remembered about the chicken pox and how old I was when I had them. I told her I had the itchy rash and that I thought I got them when I was in or around grade five.

"I have the scars," I told her, ready to point out the one above my right eye if necessary. It wasn't.

She looked up my records on her computer and then turned back to me. "Your records show that you only had one dose of the measles, mumps, rubella vaccine. We require that you have two."

At this point I expected her to hand me a letter or direct me to a secretary to pick one up that I would then need to take with me to my family doctor.

"We do have that in stock here so I can give that to you today," she said. Oh thank you! A surprise needle! I am so pleased! I am totally not busy at work and had no plans to use my arm at all today, so that is fine that you will be sticking a needle into my arm, which, according to past experience, will render the appendage achy and tingly for a good 24 hours.

She presented me with a form that I had to sign to indicate my understanding of the risks of the shot. One of the questions asked me to disclose if I had any current illnesses or was feeling un-well at all. For some reason, perhaps a last ditch effort to delay the needle, I noted that I had a scratchy throat.

The nurse reviewed my sheet and asked me about the ailment.

"I might be coming down with something," I said. She nodded, filed the form and went over to her mini fridge to retrieve my inoculation. "Left arm or right arm?"

I picked left as the lesser of two inconveniences and rolled up the appropriate sleeve.

The needle felt fine and less invasive than the flu shot. I don't think she had to put it into muscle. Maybe I wouldn't get the side effects after all.

A few seconds later I felt the cold touch of cotton ball soaked in alcohol and then the stick of a Band Aid. That wasn't so bad.

"As a standard procedure we'll have you stay here for a few minutes just to make sure you don't have any kind of adverse reaction to the shot. Since you've had the shot before and didn't react I'm sure you'll be fine."

I sat in the chair and twiddled my thumbs. Everything was normal for probably two or three minutes and then my head got light and my vision cloudy. I put up my right index finger and said, "um, excuse me? I'm feeling a bit light headed."

Just like the last time I fainted I had some wicked but unmemorable dream. I felt like I was having the best, deepest sleep ever. When I woke though there were three people in the room and I had no idea who they were or how I had gotten there. I thought I was still dreaming. I kept trying to wake up and get "home". I guess my head finally cleared and the nurse asked me if I knew my name and where I was.

"Jill" was my first answer. "At work," was the second. They told me to take deep breaths and put my head between my legs. Good Lord I felt awful. So awful in fact that I passed out a second time. Again, I woke up confused but this time also sick to my stomach. I was freaking out.

I had actually tweeted this morning that I had discovered when you make a peanut butter and jam sandwich with Melba Toast the jam reverses the "toast" status of the Melba. It was like a mini, soft bread sandwich. Well, delightful as that was for a ten a.m. snack, it was most certainly NOT delightful in reverse.

The three people in the room kept telling me I was going to be fine.

"The colour in your face is looking much better!" one said. I'm sure, with such close proximity to the grey tin garbage can I looked positively glowing. I was absolutely freaked out though.

"Is this normal?" I asked. Nobody answered that question.

"The ambulance is coming," they said. In retrospect now, I wonder just where it had to come from in order to pick me up and drive me literally around the block to Emergency.

I looked down because they again instructed me to put my head down. I noticed a puddle on the floor. At first I thought it had something to do with the wet facecloth they had brought me but then I noticed I was uncomfortably damp.

"Did I pee myself?" I asked.

"Yeah," someone said. Then the paramedics arrived, a blonde pony-tailed woman and two attractive guys. Perfect.

Still feeling nauseous I got onto the gurney and laid down as instructed. They asked me more questions. How are you feeling? Did you eat anything this morning? Have you ever reacted like this before? They wheeled me out into the hall and I had to close my eyes because the moving ceiling above me was not agreeing with my stomach which was now cramping severely.

"Can someone call my office please and let them know what happened?" I asked. This was my first thought. My next was that I wanted to call my mom. The nurse and her entourage assured me they would.

So they put me in the back of an ambulance and asked me more of the same questions. The Pony-Tail one asked if she could put an IV in me for fluids.

"What are my options?" I asked. I had just had a violent, freaky reaction to a needle, unless the IV was going to be a life-saving measure, I was not having anyone stick me with anything at that moment. She told me either she could put the IV in or that they would probably put one in me when I got to the hospital. The hospital. Where I had just walked over from forty-five minutes ago, upright, in heels and feeling super. Weird, weird, weird.

I arrived at Adult Emergency around the block and they parked me behind another guy on a gurney. A nurse came up and asked me for my next of kin. There were no beds open so there was a line up at triage. One of the paramedics asked the guy in front of me when he got here. Quarter to nine, he said. Good grief, it was now eleven o'clock.

"Looks like we're going to have a bit of a wait," my attending paramedic said to me. "You can go ahead and take a nap."

I watched the other paramedics checking their cell phones so I felt that it would be safe for me to pull out mine. I sat up as much as I could, buckled down to the gurney, and reached into my bag for my Blackberry, Assuming that someone had called my parents already I went to my email and sent The Doc a note. We were supposed to have a meeting today at noon.

"Don't think I will make the 12pm meeting as I am getting the first hand tour of the er. Stupid mumps and rubella shot reaction!"

I was really mad I was going to miss the meeting.

Finally, I got moved to the triage desk and they put me in a wheelchair.

"I know people here. Do you think I could drop some names and maybe get ahead in the line?" I half joked.

The paramedic wheeled me into the Emergency waiting room and parked me beside the security desk. Then she left and I was alone.

I decided to try phoning my parents. My mom picked up.

"Did anyone call you and tell you what happened?" I asked.

"No, what happened?"

So I told her about the shot and the reaction and the ER waiting room and I told her I was now sitting in a wheelchair in wet pants. And then I started to cry. So she said she and Dad would come for me with a change of clothes. The security guard, a young, attractive guy, approached me and gently let me know that I couldn't be on the phone in the waiting room and that he would wheel me to the back, by the vending machines. So he wheeled me in my pee pee pants to the back where I finished my conversation with my mom.

After hanging up I scooted myself back into the waiting room to watch for my parents to come for me. I was sitting beside a street person who had been brought in for intoxication. I sniffed and wondered who smelled worse, him or me.

Settling in for the wait, I started texting people. I saw that NAF was online, which struck me as odd since I though he would be peddling at that time. Still, I knew NAF would be a good distraction and could probably give me a reason to crack a smile.

Me: Are you really taking messages right now?
After a few moments I assumed he wouldn't reply. But then this popped up.
NAF: Depends on the message :-)
Me: Just looking to kill some time while I sit in the er (as a patient, not a work thing, oddly enough). Stupid measles mumps rubella shot knocked me out.
NAF: So sorry.
Then he added, I sorta want to avoid getting run over so I oughtn't chat long.

Well, who can argue with that? So I replied with a sign off.

Me: Keep ridin' upright. Talk later.

NAF added a few more words about the disappearing view of the rockies and then mentioned the package he was mailing to himself for pick up at my house next weekend.

NAF: And there may be some energy bars in the mail too. Please don't eat them all.

Finally, I smiled and forgot about being scared. Tongue in cheek, I replied.

Me: I will if you become roadkill from cycling and texting.
NAF: Deal. Good luck! Get well!

My parents arrived and were prepared to sit with me and wait but I was ready to go home (after changing). The nausea was gone, the stomach cramps a memory. I figured whenver I finally got to see a doctor there wouldn't be much that they could do for me at that point anyway. My dad was hesitant but followed me up to the admitting desk where I was stopped by security.

"Well I guess you're old enough to make that decision on your own," security said when I explained what I was wanting to do. I pointed back to my parents. "Yeah, and if not I'll make them sign me out."

I was sad to have to get my hospital bracelet cut off. It said "Holister" on it. I didn't know the sister store of Abercrombie and Fitch was also in the business of making medical equipment. "It's designer," I told my Dad when I pocketed the yellow band. It's going in the scrapbook: Jilly's First Trip to the ER

I led my dad back up to my office to retrieve my things and head home for the day. My team was back from lunch.

"It's take your dad to work day," I announced as we walked in. "Everyone, meet dad. Dad, meet everyone."

"Hi Dad!" one of my co-workers said. I told them what happened. Have I mentioned that my co-workers are all nurses?

"Oh, you should have called us, we would have come sit with you in the Emerg!"

"Make sure you eat something. Eat some protein. Drink something."

"Are you going home? Do you have someone to stay with you?"

They really are sweet people. I don't care, I'm going to say it, I'm a lucky girl.

So my parents took me home and my mom stayed with me for a bit. I had some lunch and some water. My appetite is healthy and I am feeling fine. I made an appointment with my doctor on the way home for Monday afternoon. Given my history of fainting I do want to be sure I get this all checked out. The other weird thing? My ankle, the bad one that I sprained two years ago which led to my first fainting spell, is very sore. I was sitting down the whole time so I don't know how I would have hurt it. Aliens. I'm pretty sure.